Amaya listened as Michael told of her birth and her rebirth. Shoulders erect, spine straight, face impassive, she gave none of her inner fury away. Or the pain wracking her body. Every muscle in her back was on fire.

I have wings! Braile did this to me. And Michael. Her gaze cut to the archangel. Was this their plan all along? To make me into a freak? A sideshow? Why? Why do this to me?

She gripped the sword and power surged up her arm, momentarily blinding her to the present as her mind spasmed. Leaning on the sword kept her upright. She’d not show weakness in front of these…demons.

Her gaze went to the UnHallowed, Kushiél first. Images of the gray winged, former archangel in his previous glory beat against the inside of her skull. In V formation, he flew, third in line. Next to him, Sammiél, then Braile and Michael side by side. Next to Michael, Gabriél, Zedekiél without the scraggily beard, and Rimmon without the silver cuffs on his neck and wrists. Behind the front line other angels flew in formation, their armor reflecting the sunlight in a brilliant display. She felt Braile’s grim determination not to fail in the coming war. Nothing took precedent over the defeat of the Darklings and ensuring the survival of the human race.

She shook her head to clear the images, only to have another take its place. Braile and another UnHallowed, locked in combat, their movements almost too fast to track. Their lips moved but the clash of their weapons drowned out their words. She watched this unfold as a spectator, instead of inside Braile’s skin, yet she could feel Braile’s resolve as if her life were on the line.

Suddenly, he feinted left, leaving his flank opened for the UnHallowed’s blade to slice deep in his side. A viscous, radiant liquid spilled from the wound and Braile crumbled.

Amaya dropped to one knee, debilitating grief consuming her. She didn’t want the memory, yet had no control as it swept over her. The UnHallowed flung his sword away and gathered Braile in his arms. The ground was soft beneath his back as it was under her knee. That’s when she realized what she’d climbed out of. Where she was.

Hallowed ground created by the grace of an archangel. The same place where he fought for the last time. She craned her neck around at the dead foliage surrounding her. Not sure how she knew the decayed flowers and brittle grass were wrong because that’s not what happened when an archangel bled out. This desecration was because of…she gasped and dropped her chin to her chest. The empyreal sword vibrated in her hand, magnifying her shock and despair. There was only one way it could do that. Only one way she had wings.

Anguish strafed her soul, her and Braile’s. She grieved for the father she wanted and never had. He grieved not for the adopted daughter, or his lost immortality. He grieved because he wouldn’t be here to see it all unfold.

Somehow, she managed to hold back the scream at the first slice across Braile’s throat, and the second and third slice across his wrists.

Die, Braile! Just die already!

Hands gripped Braile’s face and Amaya felt them on her skin.

Not fast enough for you? She mouthed the words as if they were her own, because they now actually belonged to her. I’ll try to be accommodating.

Braile coughed and droplets landed on the hands holding him. Amaya’s gaze followed the path up his arms, across his shoulders, up his neck to the face of the man who killed her mentor.

“I have a proposition.” Michael’s voice cut through memories that didn’t belong to her. “Join the battle. Help me defeat the Darklings for a chance at regaining your grace.”

“Amaya, are you all right?” Bane stepped to her. She ignored him and rose to her feet, her attention on Michael and the contained fury roiling beneath his calm façade.

A rough bark erupted from Razuel. “A chance? A chance! We’re supposed to put our immortality on the line for the one who stripped our grace and tossed us out on our angelic asses?”

“You made your choice, when you followed Metatron against Father’s will. The punishment was just. Banishment instead of death due to His benevolence.” Michael turned to Razuel, his features blank, but beneath the surface, his control was slipping.

I can feel you.

Michael’s gaze cut to her and whatever connection they had ceased.

“You call it benevolence. I call it hypocrisy, hoping after countless millennia He will now let us back in, if he so chooses?” Two middle fingers and Razuel headed for the exit.

Michael moved to the spot where she crawled out of the ground, where Braile had died. Memories of laying on the soft ground rushed into her mind, and the grace rushing out of her side, her slit throat and wrists. Wait. Not mine. Braile’s wrists. She glanced at her hands, touched her side and throat, confused.

“The UnHallowed must unite to aid in the fight in the war. For a chance at redemption, you will do this,” Michael stated.

No one answered, but no one else left.

“Are you saying you want us”—Daghony waved a finger between himself and Michael— “fighting side by side? That can’t be when the Celestial Army doesn’t know we exist.”

Michael’s eyes blazed. “You will not be fighting side by side with the Celestial Army. Your role is to retrieve the Cruor,” the words rumbled from him. “And—”

“What happened to the Cruor? Isn’t it at the farm?” She jerked her awkward body around, stumbling from the weight of her new appendages.

“Malphas has it,” Chayyliél said.

Malphas? What’s a Malphas? Knowledge of the Demoni Lord flashed into her brain, and left a migraine in its wake. He was an opportunist, a greedy whore monger with the ability to control the human mind. Not unlike all demons.

“—guard the portal,” Michael finished with a frown in her direction.

“Fetching? That’s why you want us? If that’s the case, get a dog, ‘cause we’re not doing it.” Kush grunted and his lips pulled back in a mockery of a laugh that held no humor, just venom.

“You think to ram this child down our throats and expect us not to choke. Maybe that was your plan all along, to see who doesn’t choke and accept this bullshit. Did you consider that some of us will chew her up and swallow the pieces?” Sammiél’s gaze shifted to Michael’s hand tightening on his sword. “You don’t deserve the honor of carrying that weapon.”

Michael nodded and flashed a microscopic smile. “On that we both agree, however I am the one who wields it.”

The flames died and Sammiél returned. “No, Michael. You are just the caretaker until Metatron returns.”

Amaya gripped her sword, prepared to strike if anyone made a move toward her. Not to protect Michael. He could hold his own. She had the sudden rage to kill them all. Every one of them. They had to know one of their own had killed Braile. They were protecting the murderer, hiding him from justice. Michael couldn’t be ignorant. She wouldn’t believe that of the all-powerful archangel. Nothing escaped him, and that meant he condoned the slaying of his friend.

Bile rose in her throat, forcing her to swallow it or choke.

“I’ll do it.” Chay’s soft voice echoed in the cavern.

“Do what?” she asked. Lost in her private epiphany, the conversation had gotten away from her.

Kush got in Chay’s face, towering over him. “No, you’re fucking not!”

“Yeah. I fucking am,” Chay answered with all the calm Kush lacked. “I’ll get the Cruor and bring it back.”

Kush held up a finger. “Number one. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re no longer The Powerful One. You’re no better than an average human in a fight,” he hissed. Amaya braced for an explosion from Chay. He didn’t move a muscle from his folded arms stance. His lack of response must’ve fueled Kush to add another finger and continue. “Number two. Why would you want to work with this bastard?” He jerked his head in Michael’s direction.

“Scarla,” Chay muttered.

With that one word, Kush’s shoulders lost their tension and his aggression bled away.

Unwanted jealousy singed her. Must be nice having her own personal posse of UnHallowed guarding her ass.

Rimmon stepped forward and gave his back to Michael. His crimson gaze cut into each of the UnHallowed. “That’s it?” He thumbed a finger at Michael. “He comes calling with not even an ‘I’m sorry guys for all the non-communication for the last half a million years. Sorry you can’t go in the sun without being barbecued. Sorry the Maker was such a dick. Now, fall in line and help me because I said so.’ I love Scarla as much as the rest of you, but I. Don’t. Fucking. Think. So.” He started for the tunnel.

“Rimmon.” Michael’s sharp tone halted the UnHallowed, who jerked around, but did not return. Michael raked him with a cold stare. “You like humans. You deal with them daily. Mingle with them. Sleep with the females. Pretend to eat, defecate, and urinate as they do. You blend in. Do you not?”

Body tense, prepared for battle, Rimmon gave a casual shrug. “And?”

“What would you do to protect those fragile humans you associate with from the Darklings? How will you atone for your failure when they die most painfully? Perhaps Kushiél can aide you…then again, perhaps not,” Michael said, clearly referencing Kush’s former role as the Archangel of Atonement.

A blade appeared in Rimmon’s hand. A single eyebrow arched on Michael’s smooth forehead. His hand relaxed and nowhere near his weapon. However, Amaya felt the preparedness in his tense muscles and his unwillingness. Michael didn’t want to slay Rimmon, yet that is exactly what he would do. Had he wanted her to know this by reestablishing their link, or had his emotions leaked out? Amaya chose to believe the latter, instead of the former.

Seconds stretched, until Rimmon’s blade vanished.

Zed paced around the room. “Fine. We get the Cruor. We guard the Cruor. You can run along now and let us handle what you can’t.” He hitched his thumb in Amaya’s direction. “Take the freak show with you.”

Amaya already knew Michael’s answer. The archangel wanted no part of her. She may have wings and an empyreal sword, but that didn’t make her an angel. She yanked the sword free, and faced Zed.

“Her name is Amaya,” Bane clarified before she had a chance.

She side-eyed Bane. Her name on his lips…the hilt of the sword bit into her palm.

“Amaya stays,” Michael said.

Now she had a new target for her anger. “No. Amaya doesn’t stay.” She’d had enough of them talking around her as if she were a mongrel nobody wanted. And one of them killed Braile. She wouldn’t forgive. She wouldn’t forget. She would repay all of them in spades. Including Michael.

She headed for the exit with the empyreal sword, and her freaky wings dragging through the dirt.

“Without you, everything will fail.” Michael’s voice chased her.

“Then it will fail.” She limped on.

She blinked and Michael stood in her way. “You can’t walk away. The grace in your veins will not allow you.”

Oh, hell no! I will not let you or anyone else have me on a leash! And I will not work for or with you anymore. “Let’s put that to the test.” With one hand, she shoved Michael and didn’t expect to move him an inch. She moved him two feet and reveled in his surprise.

“Am I the only one sporting wood, ‘cause that shit was hawt?” Riél fake whispered.

“I agree. That was hot, but not in the vulgar way you meant.” She stared at her hands and the subtle glow emanating beneath her skin. Her palms were hot, the heat increasing with each passing second, and climbing up her arms.

“Think of winter. Of ice. The North Pole. Anything cold. And breathe.” Bane took her by the elbows.

She yanked away. “Don’t touch me, ever.” Now her entire arm glowed, make that both arms. Plus, they burned. She gritted her teeth against the pain.

“Stubborn will get you incinerated,” Bane hissed.

“Care to join me?” She reached for Bane, but Daghony clasped her hand and spun her toward him.

“The light links you to the celestial. It’s not hot. The brightness is what you’re feeling. Bane’s correct. Think of the coldest you’ve ever been, then go arctic, and channel that coldness into your body.”

She listened and obeyed because she had no other choice and because Braile trusted this UnHallowed. She knew it on a cellular level. The heat decreased, along with the fading light emanating from her body.

“Leave us,” Michael ordered. The UnHallowed grumbled, but filed out of the cavern. Bane stomped away without another glance. Daghony squeezed her hands, then he released her and followed the rest of the UnHallowed.

She turned on Michael the second they were alone. “You did this to me! Why?”

“I did not,” he stated.

“If you didn’t bring me here? Who did?”

“Bane.”

The memory of her in his arms pounded her temples as it unraveled in her mind. “Then why didn’t you stop him?”

“I could not.”

What did that mean? There wasn’t anything Michael couldn’t do if he chose. Set this entire scenario up. She didn’t buy his bullshit for a nanosecond.

“You are on a path which could not be diverted. A path that goes both ways.” He pointed in both directions. “Be careful. Be wise. Both directions are treacherous and only you can choose.”

In other words, he wanted this—the wings and whatever it meant—to happen to her. “You know what, Michael…fuck you.”

She braced for a fiery reprimand, ready to swing her new shiny weapon at the archangel’s neck. Instead of a reprimand, Michael threw back his head and laughed. She flinched at the sound she’d never heard. She didn’t think the archangel could laugh.

“I think you’ll be just fine.” Lightning fried her vision and when she was done blinking, Michael was gone.

“Coward.” She had more questions. Questions about Braile. Questions about what the hell had happened to her. Why did she have his memories…maybe she should keep that tidbit to herself.

She headed for the exit. There wasn’t a staircase to climb, only an opening twenty feet above her head. It was easy for the UnHallowed to get out. It couldn’t be any harder for her. Only problem, should she open her wings first or after leaping for the top? Or do both at the same time? She shifted, tried to open her wings and all she got was an achy back. The damn things weighed a ton and Michael and the UnHallowed made it seem so effortless, so graceful the way they carried their wings. Theirs didn’t drag through the damn dirt.

To hell with this!

Either do it or end up entombed. She crouched, felt the energy coil in her body, focused on where she needed to be, and leaped. She fell short of clearing the opening, but grabbed on to the rim.

Two hands latched onto her wrists and hauled her clear of the fissure and into Bane’s arms. She wrenched free and stumbled, almost fell back into the fissure. His hands dropped to his sides, no red in his gaze, his expression shuttered.

He pointed to the sky. “Daylight approaches. We need to get back to the farm.”

“Why? The Cruor is gone. There’s nothing left to protect. And as for daylight, you need to get to the farm and get underground. I don’t have that restriction.”

“Yes,” he hissed as red shrunk his irises. “The Cruor is gone, but when we retrieve it, it’s going right back in the ground in that field, only deeper because that property is easy to defend, especially now that the UnHallowed are aware of its existence. And because that is your property, your home, and you love it.”

All of it was true. She’d only been there a week and she loved that house. Stubbornness didn’t solve anything, but right now, she was locked in. “All of it was engineered by Michael.”

“Baby and bathwater. We—you and I—lost it.”

Which meant they were responsible for getting it back and saving the world. Exactly what Braile had been training her for. “Fine.” Her attention to the horizon, she asked, “How far are we from the farm?”

“By the conduits, two minutes. By air, fifteen, maybe less.”

Yeah, by air, because the thought of going through the conduits chilled her blood. She looked at the sky and had no idea how to get up there. You don’t superglue wings to a human and expect them to know how to use them.

“It’s not that hard. I can teach you how to fly.”

For a split second, she wanted that, to share the sky with Bane. She squashed that desire. “And how do you suppose you can do that when you have no wings,” she said in the most acerbic tone she could muster. She angled her head and witnessed the hurt on his face before his features went glacial.

“I’ll teach you, but we must hurry. Dawn approaches,” came a voice from the shadows.

Daghony stood on a perch above their heads. He opened his gray wings and floated to her side. “Great. Let’s do this.” She turned away from Bane and tripped on her wings. Damn it! She hated the blasted things.

Daghony held out his hand. She hesitated and couldn’t stop herself from glancing over her shoulder at Bane, except he was gone.

“We’re high enough for you to jump. I don’t believe in the sink or swim method—the first time. And dawn is near.” Daghony swung her into his arms and leaped into the air.

A scream lodged in her throat. The wind ripped at her clothes, beat at her flesh. She wrapped her arms around Daghony’s neck and held on as the ground rushed toward them. “Are we gonna fly? Or crash!” Now, she closed her eyes and gave into the scream.

Amaya heard his wings snap open and felt their trajectory shift. Air streamed around her, sapping the heat from her body. She opened her eyes to see the ground dwindle as they rocketed straight up through a sparse cloud bank and into the starry heavens. Without the clouds and smog in the way, the sky had an abundance of stars. Diamonds on a velvet blanket, some so close she could reach out and touch them.

Even the gaseous clouds of the Milky Way were visible.

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, exhilarated.

He glanced at the sky. “I forget how beautiful it is up here. Another day, when we have time, I will teach you the constellations.”

She was surprised at the offer. “Do you fly often?”

“When I get the chance. And so shall you.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

His brow furrowed and he laid an unblinking stare on her. “Why do you expect me not to be?”

His eyes were different colors—left, aqua; right, jade. Both red-rimmed. “We’re enemies. Humans, angels, whatever I am, we are not friends.” Regardless of what Braile’s emotions had fed her.

Daghony returned his attention to the skies. “Humans have never been the enemy of the UnHallowed. And while we don’t care for the hypocrisy of the Council of Archangels, we would never harm them either. They were once our brothers.”

She believed Daghony, however, that belief didn’t extend to the rest of them. Kush, Zed, Razuel, especially Sam, violence rather than logic seemed to rule those four.

Sunlight crested the horizon.

Daghony changed their trajectory, taking them down toward the clouds. “Take my hand.” He extended his palm. This was an obvious test of trust. She took it in a death grip and didn’t protest when he eased her away from the safety of his body. “Open your wings, Amaya. Let your feathers catch the breeze. It’ll hurt the first time, but your muscles have to get used to it.”

She braced for the pain and obeyed Daghony. He hadn’t lied. The pain was almost too much. The air snatched at her wings. They twisted at an awkward angle. Tears slipped out of her eyes and she almost quit, but then instinct kicked in and her wings fully extended. Air streamed underneath and over her wings, caressing each feather. The sensation was indescribable.

“This is incredible!” she shouted as the wind swept away her tears.

“Enjoy it later. The sky lightens.” He pointed to the pink horizon. “Streamline your wings and follow closely.”

Daghony took the lead. Amaya mimicked him, only falling slightly behind as they rocketed through the sky. A large bank of clouds floated ahead of them. The light pierced the dark skies. Daghony diverted for the clouds and she followed. He hugged the lower edge of the cloud bank, keeping to the dense parts until the clouds thinned and light filtered through. Smoke curled from his wings. Up ahead, a thicker bank of cumulonimbus, thunderstorm clouds loomed. Daghony dived into the bank, she followed and promptly lost him in the mist.

“Daghony,” she shouted but her voice was lost in the growing rumble of a jet engine. Somewhere in the clouds, an airplane approached. By the whine of the engines, a big one.

She had to get out of the clouds, except up and down had no meaning in a whiteout. Indecision caused her precious seconds. Now, the roar of the engines and the smell of jet fuel surrounded her. Panicked, she dove for the ground—what she hoped was the ground, and there it was. Deer caught in the headlights applied even when an Airbus was bearing down on you. The windshield was huge, pilot and co-pilot clearly visible with their mouths open and horror on their faces.

At the last second before impact, something else slammed into her. She tumbled about, in a free fall until jerked to a halt.

“Idiot! Are you trying to kill us both?” Daghony had her by the shoulders, shaking her worse than any ragged doll had been treated.

Her stomach rolled, heaved. “You left me!” She punched him until he stopped shaking her, then gasped. Daghony’s flesh was burning. Burning! Peeling and burning. His wings. Beautiful gray feathers were on fire!

His hands slid off her shoulders and he fell away from her, limp. Unconscious and still burning. And now falling.

She tucked her wings and dove after him. She caught up with his tumbling body, latched onto his shoulders, and wrapped her legs around his waist. Then she opened her wings. The muscles in her back and shoulders howled. She managed to slow them down, but it didn’t stop him from burning or falling like a rock.

Which…was exactly what he needed. To fall, she realized, and folded her wings, throwing them into a nosedive. They cleared the clouds and sunlight hit them full force. All Daghony’s feathers burst into flames. She wrapped her body around his, trying to shield him as much as possible. Amaya was much smaller, shielding him didn’t work. Too much of him was still exposed.

“Hold on!” She had to get him to the shadows. Luckily, they were falling over the city. With the trajectory of the sun low on the horizon, the buildings cast plenty of shadows. She just had to get them there.

She angled toward the tallest building, aware of the charred UnHallowed in her arms, in a parody of a controlled dive. Aware of his immortality—his existence—relied on her to get him to safety.

The building rushed toward them. She aimed for the largest one. It grew from a Lego block to the perfect size, with a perfect shadow on the right side. She’d release him and let gravity take him the rest of the way.

What if she missed? Plus, if she released him, the sun would roast the parts of him she’d managed to protect. Add to that, she had to drop him in the shadows and not get sucked in herself. All of this on her first flight. Fucking awesome!

She snapped open her wings and groaned at the agony. Slowing was the mission, but she had to pivot, slightly, to the right of the mark. Six foot six of dead weight wasn’t helping the situation. A current of air slammed into them, spinning her about, and wrenched her wings at an unnatural angle. Daghony slipped, she had to dig her fingers into his charred flesh to anchor him.

A bald eagle glided past her. It rode the current with effortless ease. She wrapped her legs around Daghony again, tucked him close to her body, and mimicked the bird. It worked. Now, she was in a controlled glide, which helped her, but not Daghony. A part of his wings snapped off and turned to ashes in front of her eyes.

To hell with this! She tucked her wings and headed for the shadows. The distance between her and the building decreased with an alarming speed. She wouldn’t have to worry about falling into the shadows because she’d be a blotch on the side of the building.

At the last second, she released him and snapped opened her wings to stop her descent. Caught by another current, she slammed into the glass, and heard a scream. A woman stared at her from the safety of her tastefully designed white and gray bedroom.

“Sorry!” Amaya shoved off the glass in time to see the shadows swallow him. “Please let him be okay.” It was all she could, do yet it didn’t seem enough. She didn’t know the UnHallowed. Out of the lot, he wasn’t half bad, and could be an ally.

And he’d almost died trying to get her home.

Home. Yeah, about that. She had no idea where home was because she had no idea where her starting point, the cave, was. She took to the skies, away from the tall buildings. A helicopter buzzed the air approximately a mile away. The call letters of a news station were on the tail. Still didn’t know where she was. That had to be a traffic helicopter documenting the morning rush hour. If she could tell what highway or interstate she was over, she could find her way back to Danville.

She flapped her way closer and was right. The chopper hovered over the interstate, but which one? Moving too close posed too much danger. She’d already been spotted twice now. Once with the airplane and once crashing into the side of the building. She couldn’t risk it again. How did angels stay undetected? The least Michael could’ve done was give her a manual.

A blurry green and white road sign caught her attention. Damn it, she had no choice, she had to get closer. All of a sudden, her vision refocused and zeroed in on the sign. I-75 came into crisp view. She could even count the bird droppings on the sign.

What other freaky new skill do I have?

No time to ponder that question when with each flap, she tired. I-75 cut through Detroit. From there, she’d have no problem finding home. In smaller print, below I-75 was the mileage to various northern cities. Her eyes bulged at 432 miles to Detroit. She almost cried, but didn’t want to waste the energy. Right now, taking a stroll through the shadows didn’t seem so bad. She sucked up her despair and headed for a higher altitude. Hopefully, she could fly faster than the average car.